


Red Queen Secret Santa: Summer Camp

by inopinion



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inopinion/pseuds/inopinion
Summary: Modern AU: When the kids from the Slats end up at Summer Camp with Manhattan's richest, field day becomes a challenge.Created for LilyHarvord for Red Queen Secret Santa 2017.





	Red Queen Secret Santa: Summer Camp

It's the best I can offer to the greatest of Tumblr-ites. I hope you like your Red Queen Christmas..

* * *

 

Diana Farley, Senior Camp Councilor stood on the edge of the men’s cabins with her blow horn in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other and her eye on the horizon. She shivered and watched the deep blue give way to the lighter yellow of dawn, wet her lips and raised both the blow horn and the walkie-talkie to her lips.

Into the walkie-talkie she confirmed, “Thirty seconds, Barrow.” She counted from one to thirty in slow rhythmic pace, then into the blow horn shouted, “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!”

She paused. Nothing happened so she shouted again, “WAKE UP! Lazy boys sleeping in! Sunshine is a-wasting. It’s FIELD DAY!”

The first cabin shook with movement, bodies falling out of bed and onto the floor. Her fellow councilor, Shade, stumbled out and looked for the sun.

“What the hell, Farley?”

Shwoooosh. Shwooosh. The balloons flipped through the air soundless until the splat on the side of the cabin. Shade jumped back. Boys staggered out only to be met with faces full of water. Bombing balloons snapped off of sling-shots and cracked out of trebuchets raining down on targets. Little time was put into adjusting the trajectory. The confused boys jumped and ran, very few awake enough to return to the safety of their cabins.

“Farley!” Shade cursed, shivering and shaking off water. He stepped back into his cabin and stood in the doorway.

“It’s field day, Shade. Get your game face on.” Farley smirked, arched her eyebrow and into the walkie-talkie commanding, “Cease fire!”

A few straggling balloons crashed into the stones in front of Shade’s cabin. He peeled his shirt off over his head and wrung it out on his step.

“You’re asking for it, Farley.” He wiped at the water, goosebumps covering him.

“If this is the punishment, let’s go for another round,” she bit her lower lip, pleased with herself. Shade rolled his eyes.

He stretched out his arms and motioned to his torso, “Anytime, Diana.” He chuckled watching her cheeks pink. She turned on her heel and marched back to the girls side of camp.

——

**Canoe Races**

“Boat 1 will be: Cal, Kilorn, Oliver. Boat 2 will be: Ptolemus, Maven, Thomas.” Shade rattled off.

Farley looked the boys over and glanced at her list countering, “Boat 1: Mare, Cameron, Elaine. Boat 2: Evangeline, Gisa, Wren.”

Each started the motors on their boats and set off to establish the starting line in the middle of the lake.

“It’s too early.” Evangeline complained, unwrapping her arms from around Elaine.

“I think you two have got it covered. I can do a different event,” Cal stated.

“Get in the boat,” Oliver sighed.

“What’s the matter, never taught ya how to row at the yacht club?” Kilorn bumped into Cal on his way to the dock.

“You know, yachts don’t have oars, right?” Maven commented. Cal shook his head to cut off any other retort. Kilorn was his teammate, but he was best friends with a couple of the girls. There was no reason to test his alliances so early in the day.

Cal let Oliver and Kilorn get into the canoe first. Then declared, “I’ll take the middle.”

“You should be on the back, you’re heavier and you’ll decrease the drag,” Maven regurgitated something Cal had mentioned a few weeks earlier.

“I’ll take the middle,” Cal repeated. The stability of being in the middle suited him better when it came to the narrow canoes.

“Seriously, you’re like at least twenty pounds—”

“Worry about your own boat. Okay?” Cal snapped.

Maven put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder to steady his descent off the dock. He took the middle, directing Thomas, the lightest, to the front.

“Don’t worry, Cal. Doesn’t matter what seat you’re in when you’re watching everyone out in front of you,” Evangeline said. Cal had tried to keep things civil between him and his ex the entire summer, but she still had a sharp tongue.

Mare was oddly quiet. Her boat settled into their seats while Cal had argued and they were already starting out into the lake. Cal watched the movement of her muscles in her exposed shoulders. They were strong and powerful dipping into the water and pulling them forward. She sat at the back of her boat so her strength could both push and steer them. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed her before. It’s not like she hadn’t been around during activities, or events. But something about the confidence of her posture drew his attention.

Kilorn turned back with a nod so Cal knew he was also appreciating the view. His temperature jumped and his grip tightened on the oar. He pushed back against the water harder.

Farley put the blow horn to her lips and held her arm out, “I will countdown from ten, at which point, you may cross this line. If you cross early, you’re disqualified. Out to the buoy and back. Ten. Nine…”

“If we lose to those fucking girls, neither of you is making it to the dock dry. You get me?” Ptolemus threatened Maven and Thomas, dragging his oar to slow them down and keep them from crossing.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll be wet, too?” Thomas asked, then shrank back. Ptolemus’s hand came up threatening a backhand.

“You touch him, you’ll regret it,” Maven hissed over his shoulder.

“Hmm… it’s like _that_ is it?” Ptolemus’ eyes widened. Weaknesses were his favorite like ice-pops on hot summer days.

“Three…. Two…. One!” Farley finished her count and all boats paddled hard. Well, Evangeline just paddled.

“Come on, Eve!” Wren shouted.

“Save your energy, we’re not gonna win,” Evangeline huffed, before applying herself with a little more vigor.

Ptolemus crossed after Farley called, “GO!” They took the early lead. He called out a pace for the other boys, at first with words, but soon with grunts as his efforts overtook his ability to speak.

“Harder!” Mare pushed her team from her position in the back, hot on Ptolemus’s stern. Cameron moved side-to-side letting her long limbs shoot them forward with each draw. Elaine did her part, although, she wasn’t as capable as her partners. Her talents didn’t make for a good field day display.

“Will you just keep us straight?” Kilorn barked at Oliver. A decade on the river every day had honed his skills far better than the rich boys in his boat. Oliver obviously hadn’t paid much attention to proper form over the last six weeks. Cal looked almost sick and preoccupied when he looked behind him. A well timed and carefully placed splash of water seemed to get his focus.

“Dude, you can do better,” Kilorn urged.

Cal, Kilorn and Oliver began to gain on Mare, Cameron, and Elaine. Cal leaned a little further out to see Mare’s back around Kilorn. Her shirt clung to her side where the water splashed off Cameron’s oar.

As Ptolemus cursed and shouted at Maven and Thomas to make the turn around the buoy, Mare’s boat collided with the tail of his canoe. Mare's boat came to a complete stop. Momentum threw the girls forward. Elaine’s oar fell into the lake. Ptolemus’s canoe turned forty degrees in an instant, making the corner tighter. But also, the crew lost Ptolemus over the edge.

“Right! Right! Go on the outside!” Kilorn yelled. Oliver paddled on he left, and Cal switched sides for two strokes until they were away from the fray. Then they turned. All three dug their oars deep into the water, a clear shot at the finish line in front of them.

Crossing the line, they threw their hands in the air in celebration of the first victory for the boys. Looking back, Cal watched Ptolemus cling to the side of Mare’s boat and pull it over. Maven and Thomas must have paddled hard to get distance from their angry third. Both were dry, laughing, and still pushing themselves towards the finish.

Cal busied himself with dragging the canoe up the shore. Without some distraction, Mare’s exit from the water would have made an embarrassing moment. Still, he glanced at her, sidelong and shivered in excitement at how her wet shirt clung tighter to her body.

Boys: 4 pts

Girls: 3 pts

———

**Archery**

“Strength may get you across a pond—” Farley began her introduction.

“Or in it,” Kilorn snickered. Mare’s hand landed in a thud against his chest. He retaliated with an equal sounding smack.

“Shut it,” Shade snapped. Looking at Farley for her to continue.

“Strength may get you across a pond, but archery is a combination of natural talent honed into a skill. Each team can choose two archers to represent your camps. Each archer will shoot six arrows, the highest point value will determine the winner.” Farley handed the targets to Shade and counted out six arrows while the teams picked.

“Mare, you should,” Elane declared.

“She can’t hit a barn,” Evangeline crossed her arms, angry that her girlfriend would even suggest Mare before her.

“Then who?” Cameron was the worst shot and everyone knew it.

“Gisa’s probably the most precise,” Mare offered.

Gisa warmed and blushed hearing the praise from her sister. More so when the other girls nodded and agreed. She stepped forward, separating herself from the remaining group.

“Need one more,” Evangeline hinted at her own prowess, with a small motion of her hand.

“Fine, why not?” Wren shrugged. No one argued.

A similar conversation occurred on the other side only Kilorn didn’t even need a nomination. The discussion centered around the second person: Maven, Thomas, or Ptolemus.

“I can thread a needle with an arrow.” Ptolemus declared.

“Yeah, once, maybe twice, but can you do it six times?” Maven challenged, “Thomas should.”

Ptolemus puffed up and cal rolled his eyes, putting his shoulder in front of Thomas and Ptolemus backed down.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but the kid’s got skills,” Cal backed Maven’s choice.

“Whatever. If he misses the target and we lose, it’s your fault.”

“It’s just a game, Toley,” Cal tried, but his friend kept walking. “Get it done, Tom.” Cal clapped him on the back.

“Gather up,” Shade waved them in and pulled out a coin, “Boys won the last event, so you call it. Winner gets to pick who shoots first and then we alternate.”

Kilorn called heads, and lost. Evangeline elected to shoot first.

Evangeline shook out her silver hair and scraped her fingers into her scalp. The stimulation sent a wave of current all over her body and focused her mind on her form. She took the bow from Farley and plucked at the string, feeling out the tension and resistance. She watched her hair move in the breeze, the wind coming gentle and constant from the east.

“Any day, princess,” Farley sneered, eying her watch in exaggeration.

Evangeline pulled back the string one more time, then took an arrow, set it, and let it fly. She hit in the middle ring to the right of the center for five points.

Evangeline wiggled with confidence, tossing the bow to Kilorn. He caught it easily and went through many of the same motions, including watching Evangeline’s hair catch the breeze. He lined himself up, pulled tight, and let it sail just inside the center ring for ten points. He held Evangeline’s eyes, smirking at her scowl, handing the bow to Gisa.

Gisa fought the hum of nervous energy, the eyes on her foreign and troubling. She pulled back the string without much thought and held it, lining her arrow up with the bullseye so long that her arm began to shake. She missed the center to the left staying in the five point ring.

“Nice shot, Gee,” Kilorn’s eyes wrinkled in the corners in a genuine smile. Gisa stopped breathing and had to be nudged to give up the bow.

Thomas made the mistake of looking at Ptolemus. That boy scared him more than death itself. Kilorn put both hands on his shoulders and got him to look him square in the face. “You got this, Thomas. Just take a couple deep breaths. We’re tied up so anything you get is bonus, alright?”

“Yeah, bonus. Bonus. Bonus…” Thomas reminded himself, but Ptolemus still looked like he might snap him in half. He swallowed instead of taking deep breaths, and Shade and Farley had to walk to the target to assess if he was inside of the five point ring or not. He was not. One point.

Round two should have gone a little easier, everyone having had a chance at a first shot. But Evangeline over compensated and so did Gisa, Kilorn fell victim to a sudden gust, but Thomas improved. Everyone had five points. The boys ahead by one.

In the third round, Evangeline still fought with a pendulum of compensation and missed the center circle to the right. Kilorn recovered for ten points, and Gisa’s nerves settled landing her arrow right next to his. Thomas looked at Evangeline’s five point arrow and knew he had to meet it to keep them in the lead. He pulled back the bow.

“Take your time, Thomas.” Ptolemus stated, as he loosed the arrow. It went wide and only counted for one. “See, I should have done it.”

“If you’d shut your mouth! You distracted him.” Maven pushed a finger at Ptolemus. Cal, again, stepped between them.

The fourth round: Evangeline got her first ten point shot. Kilorn his third. Gisa landed outside the center. And Thomas struggled under the pressure of Ptolemus’s groan. He shot wide, but tied the round with five points.

The fifth round: Evangeline sank into the ten point circle. Kilorn matched her. Gisa clipped the edge inside the ring. Thomas shook when he took the bow.

“Look at him, he’s scared to even hold the damn thing.” Ptolemus didn’t see the fist in time to duck or prepare, but Maven laid him onto the grass.

Not even Cal, standing right next to Ptolemus, realized the situation fast enough to save Maven. Ptolemus launched, grabbing his legs and both boys rolled on the ground. Cal watched the beating. He hovered and snatching at air, unable to catch either boy. Shade’s leg smashed into the middle, breaking them apart and sending Maven rolling.

“Save it for the tennis courts,” Farley barked.

Thomas helped Maven into a sitting position and then pulled Maven’s shirt up to blot the blood from a scrape on his cheek. Evangeline glared at Shade and then at Maven, when Ptolemus rejected her help. Farley dispatched Wren for the first aid kit.

“What the hell, Ptolemus?” Cal barked.

“He hit me.”

"What the hell is wrong with you? Maven's one of us!" Cal shouted.

"That sewer rat!" Ptolemus pointed at Thomas.

“You’ve been all over Thomas all summer long. Even I wanted to take you out a couple times.” Cal put his arms out and stopped Ptolemus’s approach.

“Go take a walk,” Farley commanded.

Ptolemus pointed his finger at Maven, “Don’t think I’ll forget.”

“Touch him and die,” Cal sniped at Ptolemus’s retreating back.

“Guess money can’t even buy friends.” Kilorn snickered, looking for approval from Mare. She smiled but stayed quiet. Her eyes had some sympathy when they met Cal’s although he didn’t know for what.

“Right, Thomas. Take your shot.” Shade pulled him up while Wren took over nursing Maven’s cut.

Thomas looked at those standing behind him. Evangeline didn’t seem amused. Everyone else swung the balance between bored and encouraging. He took a deep breath and let his arrow fly hitting the ten point ring.

“Well done,” Cal clapped.

“Final round, the girls are in the lead seventy to sixty-seven. Evangeline, last shot.” Farley handed the bow.

“Easy as pie.” Her smug statement did little to convince the fates. She cursed when she only scored five points, a huge opening to the boys.

Kilorn didn’t jinx himself with bravado and focused on the task at hand instead. He pulled back steadied his breath, and like a hundred times before, met his mark on the target. He hated to root against Gisa, but if she only scored five points, they might have a chance. Thomas wasn’t likely to hit the ten again.

Gisa pulled back on the string, then pulled again, then again as if it was her first time holding the bow. She raised her arms and Kilorn felt sure she’d miss the center. She was too nervous— and then it hit, in the center of the ten point ring and she squealed, running to Mare, jumping.

“Good job, Gee,” Kilorn muttered with mild enthusiasm.

Thomas didn’t need the reminder, but Farley would have been remiss if she didn’t say, “Ten points to win, any less, and well…”

“Ten points… right.” Thomas took deep breaths and looked down the shaft of the arrow long enough for his fingertips to itch, then let it loose.

“Better luck next time, Thomas,” Cal commented.

“Should have listened to Ptolemus,” Evangeline flaunted their win, almost skipping away from the group.

Boys: 7 pts

Girls: 7 pts

————

Wren accompanied Thomas to the medical tent. Evangeline and Ptolemus scowled from under a tree, waiting for other groups up ahead of them to complete the knife throwing.

“So, what’s the deal with the murder twins?” Mare commented.

Cal looked behind him and to his right before realizing she was directing her question at him. “Oh, them, I… I don’t know.”

“Just seems weird they’d have it out for your brother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, Thomas isn’t his boyfriend. They’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Mare let her lips stay circled to drive home how dumb he sounded.

“I mean…” Cal thought back through the weeks since they arrived at camp.

Maven had at first stuck with their crowd, safety with the familiar, but he’d gravitated towards the boy from the Bronx that shared his bunk house. Cal didn’t think much about it, they were closer in age than the others. Ptolemus had a strange dislike for poor kids and Cal figured that had only helped the distance grow. He never paid enough attention, but in retrospect, his brother and Thomas had been very close.

“So, yeah, what’s Ptolemus’s deal with your brother’s _friend_?” Mare said, again.

“Oh… I… I… I need to talk to my brother.” Cal started to move, but Mare caught him.

“What’s to talk about?” Her grip was firm and her eyes stern.

“You just said… and he’s… and I… and this changes everything.”

“Does it? Cos it be pretty shitty if it does.” Mare squeezed hard, a sour, disapproving pout jostled his instincts and rearranged his thoughts.

“I mean, not everything. I just… wow.”

“Look if you didn’t know then it mustn’t be a big deal. So don’t make it a big deal. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.”

“No. It’s just a lot to take in. He’s my brother, you know? I don’t want anything bad to happen and well… there’s a lot of expectations on us, is all. This could make things very difficult next year.”

“Well, that’s next year. And today is today. And I think I’m gonna be kicking your ass at knives in just a second.”

Cal puffed up, set aside the shock of the moment, and focused on what he knew best: bravado. “We’ll see who’s kicking who’s ass.”

———

Evangeline and Ptolemus turned knife throwing into a display of pure sibling rivalry. They tied each other throw for throw. Cameron and Gisa hung back together making comments about mob bosses and assassins. Mare had to actually focus and compete, but her aim wasn’t as good as she’d hoped. Cal ended up beating her after all.

“Ass kicked,” Cal proclaimed. He turned to her, broad smile and open arms. He looked expectant, like he'd earned her congratulations.

Mare ignored him, stating to Kilorn, “My stomach’s empty.”

“Good thing it’s almost lunch time,” Kilorn stepped between them. Cal sucked in a breath but let the interruption go unchallenged.

Boys: 11pts

Girl: 10pts

—————

**Swimming**

Maven had four stitches applied to his chin and wasn’t able to suit up to swim.

Farley scratched his name off the list, “We need a volunteer from the girls side to sit out.”

Elaine started to put her hand up, but Evangeline stopped her, “Come on babe, it’s a killer bikini.”

Kilorn’s eyes opened a bit wider at the idea of bikinis, “I say they all swim.”

“One of them is my sister.” Mare swatted him.

“I’ll sit out. I… I’m not a good swimmer.” Gisa offered, turning pink and avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“I’m not good either, didn’t swim much growing up,” Cameron insisted.

“Just rock, paper, scissors for it. Best two out of three. Winner picks who sits,” Wren offered before picking up her swim sack and heading to change. Kilorn’s eyes followed, thirstier after seeing Elaine’s hand smack Evangeline’s bottom.

“I’ll sit, if both of you don’t want to swim.” Cal’s offer drew every face. He blushed a little but looked eagerly for their answer.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Cameron called, to his dismay. In the end, Gisa choose to sit and Cal was trailing Thomas to the changing rooms, a little extra cautious about Ptolemus.

“Relay race. Girls line up. You swim to the bouy and back. You have to make sure you exchange the baton on dry land. Line up,” Shade called.

“Should we make sure there’s a little extra drag?” Evangeline circled her arms around Elaine.

“Oh, stop,” Elaine giggled, meaning anything but. She kissed the tip of Evangeline’s nose and her fingers slid down her back to the string of her bikini.

“Line up!” Farley shouted through her blow horn, Kilorn, Cal and Oliver cleared their throats and turned back towards the lake.

Cameron rolled her eyes, but the rest of the girls couldn’t help but giggle.

Kilorn readied himself for the first round.

On your marks, get set, go!” Shade shouted, blowing a whistle.

Kilorn and Cameron shot into the water side by side, but it was obvious Cameron would be well behind by the time they exchanged the baton.

Kilorn flopped onto his back heaving his lungs up and down a couple feet away from Gisa. She glanced and indulged her eyes, scraping down his body, but stopping short of staring slack-jawed. Maven, on her left, didn’t notice, he had his eyes on Thomas, in the water.

Elaine moved more like a shark than a human. She was captivating and each streamlined move of her compact body took a little bit of the boy’s lead away. When she scrambled out just a few breaths after Thomas, Wren knew they were in a good position.

Thomas coughed up water he swallowed in the last climb out of the lake. Maven held out his towel for him and they sat together, but not touching.

Six years on her swim team had made Wren an efficient swimmer. Oliver wasn’t shirking either, and the match was better than Wren expected. She barely gained any ground. Mare dove in seconds after Ptolemus, but misjudged the depth and scraped along the sandy bottom, losing speed.

“Come on, Mare!” Kilorn bellowed.

“Wrong team,” Thomas chuckled.

“I’d rather her beat him than we win,” Kilorn explained, shouting again, “Kick harder!”

“Yeah, harder! Move your arms!” Thomas shouted with him.

Evangeline, caught between loyalty to her brother and her sex, stopped screaming and just let her eyes bounce between the two bodies. Mare was gaining ground when Ptolemus rounded the buoy. A hard kick to her head and he cleared the turn with her a length behind.

“He kicked her!” Gisa jumped up to protest, Cameron shouted along side her.

“That’s cheating, he kicked her!” They protested together.

Shade and Farley exchanged a glance, a word, and a shrug.

Mare made up some of the time but Cal was passing her into the water as she scrambled out, handing the baton to Evangeline for the last leg.

“There’s no way.” Cameron sighed, plopping back down on the grass.

“Maybe, I mean, Evangeline’s athletic.”

“Yeah, but it’s Cal. Perfect-at-everything Cal.” Cameron rolled her tongue in her mouth like his name was a bad enough flavor to spit.

“He hates water,” Maven mumbled, ice pack still on his chin.

“What?” Mare panted, looking at Maven then back at the water where Cal, clearly not comfortable, was losing their lead on each stroke.

“Water, he hates water. Never swims if he can help it.” Maven smiled, slyly, pointing at Ptolemus.

Ptolemus red-faced from swimming was also yelling at the top of his lungs. As Cal’s lead disappeared against Evangeline’s near perfect form, Ptolemus started to snarl, threaten, and yell his throat hoarse. Clear and utter disappointment dropped him to his knees as Evangeline stumbled up and out of the water and onto the beach. She was the clear winner by more than a foot.

“Girls win.” Shade blew his whistle.

“What the hell was that?” Ptolemus stood over Cal, hands on his hips, snarling.

“I’m not a good swimmer.”

“I can’t even…” Ptolemus walked away.

“You have forty minutes for lunch, then we’re meeting up for the cross country race at two at the red barn,” Farley announced, dismissing them.

“I guess you’d try to stay on the yacht,” Kilorn teased.

“We don’t even have a yacht,” Cal groaned, siting up and dusting wet sand off his body.

Mare stood off the beach, a towel wrapped around herself. Cal had three write scars on his left shoulder, like he’d had surgery or something, and a dusting of sand up his side that she was compelled to help brush off. Her fingertips touched, lightly, and grains of sand fell off. His head swiveled and both he and Kilorn looked at her, puzzled. She retracted her hand, and headed back to the changing rooms.

Boys: 14

Girls: 14

————

**Lunch**

“Okay, but what exactly were they doing?” Kilorn slid in next to a disgusted Cameron.

“Pervert,” she inched away.

“You can’t say they were all over each other without saying how they were all over each other,” Kilorn protested.

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” Evangeline licked up Elaine’s neck before taking her spot next to her at the table. “Mmm, strawberry shampoo.”

Kilorn short circuited, stiff and mesmerized, staring until Elaine threw canned peaches into his lap.

“I was filling in the blanks,” he stole Mares’ napkin and cleaned his shirt.

“Pervert,” Mare also inched away.

“Sitting with the girls, Warren? That scared of big ol’ Ptolemus?” Ptolemus needled him as he passed, heading towards Cal.

“I’ll take tacos over sausage any day of the week, you know, just a personal preference.”

“And what if the tacos don’t want your nasty ass sitting with them?” Cameron curled her nose.

“Tone it down, or I’ll help kick you out,” Mare warned.

Gisa leaned into Cameron, her whisper between them, “Explain: taco.”

———

**Cross Country Race**

“Stitch-face is not exempt from this exercise, so no one else gets to opt out. You’ll line up with all the other campers and it’s a race around the camp, following the course, about three miles. How you place is how you score and the winning team will be announced at the dance.” Farley handed out wristbands with electronic trackers while she spoke.

Ptolemus was quick to jostle to the front of the line, Cal on his heels. Evangeline rolled her eyes and followed Elaine, both talked about walking the entire route. Oliver and Wren prepared themselves behind the front lines, eager to join Cal and Ptolemus, but blocked out by elbows.

Cameron stretched out in the middle where the crowd hadn’t collapsed yet. Gisa watched, transfixed by the spring in her drying curls as she bent over. A strange swirl of confusion pulsed in her as she looked at her tall friend bent down to touch her toes. She felt the heat that she only knew in tacit moments eying Kilorn. She snapped to her senses and meandered to the side where she’d be less likely to be trounced.

Mare and Kilorn buddied up, ready to go the distance at a smooth pace like they often ran at home. To experienced runners, steady was better than fast off the line. So they strategized about how much of a lead to allow before kicking in the final mile.

“On your marks! Get Set! Go!” Someone behind the depths of the field shouted through a blow horn.

The front line leapt ahead. Ptolemus and Cal hustled out with the pack of fifteen determined runners. Mare and Kilorn milled in the second wave, starting and stopping on their way up to the line. Mare grabbed his wrist and pulled him through an opening and they were off on the outside, quickly settling into their favored pace. Wren saw them break away and zipped through the elbows to catch them. Cameron and Gisa had an impossible wait at the very back. Looking around, Gisa watched Elaine leading Evangeline away from the starting line and back to the cabins. She glanced at Cameron’s hand and wondered what would happen if they did the same.

Oliver kept up for the first mile. But eventually, he found himself staring after the top 10 runners and fading faster into the pack. Kilorn matched up next to him.

“You okay, Olly?” Kilorn had to swallow spit to get his words out, but they came easy enough.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” he panted hard.

“Whatever you say, chief,” Kilorn gave him a salute and moved past him.

“Don’t. Let. Her. Win,” Oliver called.

Kilorn glanced at Mare, her eyebrow arched for a moment, “No letting me do nothing, Warren.”

“Nope, no letting,” he agreed, and groaned when she picked up the pace.

They closed the gap slowly over three quarters of a mile, watching the pack of ten dwindle down to four: Cal, Ptolemus and two girls from another group. As fit as Kilorn was, running was something he did to keep up with Mare, not something he was good at. He slowed.

“Come on Warren,” she urged.

“We can’t both win,” he struggled to gasp it out and she watched his feet falter, robbing him of more strength. Reluctantly, she pulled away, accelerating into the pack.

Cal looked startled to see her. So startled that he collided with Ptolemus. They bumped and jostled and one of the girls got a flat tire, falling into a bush and rolling out well behind them.

“Lay her out, Cal,” Ptolemus shoved back, throwing Cal’s bulk at Mare.

She leapt to her right and hurtled over a stump, almost taking a branch to the face. Ptolemus leaned forward, pushing ahead, breaking into a near sprint. Mare had no way of knowing if he could sustain that speed, but Cal’s halfhearted increase said he didn’t think so.

Five feet in front, Ptolemus pulled down a barricade, laying it directly in Mare’s path. She jumped and nearly fell on her way down, if it weren’t for Cal’s hand on her upper arm she probably would have at least gone to her knees.

“Knock it off!” Cal called.

While those at the front battled each other at a blistering pace, Gisa and Cameron fell back into an uneventful jog. The were almost a full half-mile behind the leaders. The best parts being when Cameron ran slightly ahead. Or when their arms brushed side to side. Gisa like running in silence, one foot in front of the other. She liked how their bodies sometimes matched when they struck the ground. The exploration of Cameron’s both calming and a thrilling presence could only have been done in the silence of work. And by the time they rounded the last corner, coming down among dozens of others, Gisa had decided she very much liked being near Cameron. And that inkling, the possibility of sneaking away, tugged at her courage in the craziest way.

Ptolemus snagged at Mare’s shirt and pulled on her arms as she pushed past in the last quarter mile. There was enough space that her move posed a real risk to her ability to complete the race. Having an extra hundred and seventy pounds hanging on her arm wasn’t helping. Cal shoved Ptolemus hard from behind. Limbs and shoes flew up and around, slashing Mare’s ankle and bringing her down in a pile. Ptolemus landed punches and scratched at Cal’s eyes. Cal tried to hold him down long enough to get his feet under him, but for those two the race was lost.

Mare gripped her ankle and hobbled forward, her pace not even half of what it was. The last girl that had been tailing the pack was poised to cross the line first, and Mare sunk into a realization: she couldn’t finish.

“Barrow! Act smart,” Kilorn bellowed, coming past the boys on the ground. He pushed his arm under hers and hunched. She leaned heavy on him and he acted as her second leg all the way to the finished line, well outside of the top ten, but at least with final scores.

“Thanks, Kilorn,” Mare hung off of him, all of the way until he eased her down onto a bench.

“Anytime, Mare,” his green eyes crinkled on the edges as he smiled. His hand swept her hair back out of her face and behind her ear. “How about some water?”

She shrugged away from his gesture, just slightly, so as not to wound him, and nodded. Water would be a good start.

Cal hobbled over, a banana in his hand, holding it out to her. Mare shot up onto her feet.

“Thanks for trying with Ptolemus.”

Cal offered the banana again, and this time she took it, but he held on. Mare reached up to the purple bruise and scrape forming on his cheakbone. It was an automatic move, not one she intended and when he didn’t flinch, but instead let her fingers touch, Mare blushed and turned coyly away. He let the banana drop, their arms swinging apart. “Anytime, Mare. See you at the dance?”

“Oh, no. I don’t dance. I’ll probably be anywhere but there.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d save one for me.”

“I’ll do us both a favor, and find a different distraction.”

“What sort of distraction?” Cal moved in, finally releasing the fruit.

Kilorn stepped into their space, closer than he really needed to be, “Water, Mare?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She cleared her throat and drank quickly, the cold chasing the heat in her face.

Cal backed up a half step and sighed. “If you’re there, I’ll find you.”

Kilorn finished downing half his bottle, “Was that a threat?”

“I hope so.” Mare watched Cal retreat in his running shorts and dust coated legs.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Seriously?” Kilorn’s tone deadened at the low end of his registry. He stepped away towards the lake, a swim better than a shower in his book.

——

**Good bye Dance**

Cal rubbed his eyes and thought about standing in line outside of Space Mountain in the Florida heat. He twisted his body right and left and called to mind playing x-box with his cousins. He even tried thinking about his grand parents seated at the kitchen table enjoying wholesome, sweet sugar cookies. But each image, as soon as he secured it, was replaced with the carnal embrace of his brother and another boy. Cal had never ever wanted to walk in on his brother indisposed, and somehow confirming Maven’s orientation at the same time had seared everything unpleasantly into his brain.

Thomas appeared outside the bunk red-faced and without many words, but the three he managed kicked Cal in the gut, “Don’t hurt him.”

“What? I’m not… he’s my brother!” Cal sputtered, pushing past the boy and into the cabin.

“Cal, I swear… it’s… it’s…”

“Unfortunate.”

Maven hung his head, shame. Cal’s gut twisted again.

“Unfortunate because I never ever wanted to walk in on you. Ever. Like, that’s your business. It’s… dude, you’re my brother.” That perked Maven up a little. “You couldn’t have like, locked the door?”

“It doesn’t lock, I thought the race would take a bit longer,” Maven explained. “I thought this might be our last chance.”

“He lives in the Bronx, right?”

“As if I could—you know next year is all the society bullshit. Mom and dad will never allow it.”

“Do you like girls? At all?” Cal hoped to find some options.

“I do. I just like Thomas more.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll?”

“I’ll let you borrow my bike or something. We’ll figure it out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, you’re my brother. And if it keeps your business out of spaces we share, then that’s good for everyone,” Cal teased. Maven blushed. “You going to this dance or what?”

Money couldn’t buy love or manners, but it could get a tailor and a very fine suit. Kilorn glowered at the men lining up to check into the mess hall. All he could afford was a white shirt, slacks, and a jacket from the salvation army. Gisa had gone with him and even hemmed the pants to meet his height. He loitered on the picknic bench, coat folded beside him as the peacocks strutted in from the men’s side of the camp.

“What’s the plan, Warren? Finally gonna go find that duck you fancy?” Ptolemus teased on his way in.

“Naw, just waiting for the bitches you’re gonna chase away,” Kilorn grinned. He didn’t flinch when Ptolemus made a step towards him.

“Kilorn, inside,” Shade urged, waving him forward.

“Shade. Really?”

“Everyone inside. Mandatory fun.”

“You can’t mandate fun.”

“I can mandate your ass kicking. Get in.” Shade ushered him and a few other stragglers into the door, and checked the count with the attendant. “Missing three, huh? I’ll go find them.” And then the doors shut.

The lights were on at full levels, a glaring brightness and sterility. All the boys were pimple-faced and red cheeked on their side of the mess-hall and the girls were washed out and scoffing on theirs.

“Rules of the night: No kissing. No sneaking off. No alcohol. No fighting. And no leaving before midnight. Remember, kids, leave room for Jesus,” Farley called through her blow horn and the lights went down.

“No leaving?” Mare murmured to Gisa.

“Stuck,” Gisa confirmed.

“At least I’m with you,” Cameron shrugged, her shoulder touching Gisa.

Gisa warmed, “It’s a highlight.”

A tingle of suspicion pushed Mare away from the two girls, “No fun for me… maybe for them…” A little privacy might be what her sister needed.

She edged her way to the side of the dance floor to where the punch bowl sat untouched. Light from the outside poured in as Elaine and Evangeline were thrust through the door and into the party.

“One more. Just one more,” Shade sighed, heading back out.

Elaine blotted red lipstick off her mouth, Evangeline applied the exact same shade. Elane’s hand reached down and she snapped her small purse closed, but before she did, Mare saw the shining silver flask. Mare got an idea. She sidled up to the girls, no reason to suspect they’d be friendly, but with enough interest in fun to take the chance.

“What do you want?” Evangeline snarled.

“I mean, just to compare notes, where’d you guys end up in the race?” Mare commented, swinging back to look at the crowd and draw Elaine’s eyes up.

“Field day is over. This camp is over. And you should be over there,” Evangeline pointed back at Gisa.

“Come on, Evangeline. Would it hurt you to be nice for just five minutes,” Mare exaggerated her grin. Elaine’s body pulled back. She had the clasp undone but the purse drifted out of reach.

“You’re ruining the mood,” Evangeline wrapped one hand around Elaine’s waist and pulled her in closer. The purse even further away from her.

Thinking quick, she stepped forward, leaning into Elane to comment, “And I thought she was nothing but moods.”

The proximity was enough, and the flask was in her hands as she passed back towards the punch bowl. She knew she didn’t have much time before all the councilors returned from the hunt for the missing camper. She unscrewed the lid and dumped in it a cup, then crimped the bottom to cause a slow leak. It smelled sweet and sour, lemon drops and sugar.

She dropped the flask behind the trashcan, if she could get back to it at the end of the night, she’d hock it at a pawn shop when they got home.

Mare meandered towards Kilorn. He looked at her, apprehensive. Then flashed a glance down her dress before returning to the same agitated look. “You and the silver sisters over there getting better acquainted?”

“Just stirring us up some fun.”

“Ah, so getting a line on big-dreamy?”

“What? Who?” Mare had an inkling he meant Cal.

He muttered, “Whatever.” And shrugged her off. She didn’t have much patience for his mood.

“Elaine had a flask.”

“Really, is she sharing?”

“She just did. But it’s not much in a bowl that big. Who else you think is packing?”

“Six weeks and you think they’ll have booze left? I would have been sauced the first night.”

Mare watched Oliver turn, too conspicuous to be missed, and toss his head back. “I guess they have restraint. I’ll get you a definition on that one.”

Kilorn trailed her through the bodies as the boys and the girls, sticking mostly to their sides, contemplated mingling. Mare was one of the only girls neck deep in testosterone. If she got caught, he’d step in; but mostly he liked watching her move. If her ankle was hurting her, she didn’t show it, sliding easily between the black jackets and avoiding waving arms. He was fairly certain she’d plucked a wallet on her way by one group. Trying to see where she’d hid it in her dress was half the fun.

Oliver turned back to the dance floor, dropping his bottle in his back pocket. Mare whisked by him as another group bumped into him. The perfect distraction. She walked away unnoticed, rounded the outside behind the girls and back to the punch. This time, it was clearly whiskey.

Kilorn eyed her while he crossed the vacant dance floor to Gisa and Cameron who dropped their conversation.

“No, no, please continue. I love hearing about myself,” he grinned, smarmy and chiding at the same time.

“Not everything is about you,” Gisa half-growled.

“None of the good things are,” Cameron glared.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Cameron deadpanned.

Gisa, at the same time, said, “No.” Blushing and turning a little meek.

“Oh… ohh…” Kilorn winked at Gisa. “Make sure you get some punch.”

As he stepped away, looking for Mare in the better mixed crowd, he heard Gisa say, “You said, yes?”

Mare’s cup was dribbling into the punch bowl from the bottom as he came up behind her. His hand found her hip, leaning into her ear, “Big and burly’s got something shiny in his coat pocket.”

Mare sucked her teeth and twitched his hand off of her waist. “I assume you mean Cal?”

“Watch him, though, he’s not a lunk like Ptolemus.”

“Easy mark.”

Kilorn drew a glass and tested it, “This is pretty strong, I don’t think we need to risk it.”

“We aren’t risking anything. He’s an easy mark. Rich kids always are.” The music volume started increasing.

“I know methanol can make you blind, but can it make your deaf?”

“What?” She feined, hand to her ear, stepping backwards and towards the crowds.

Kilorn grabbed her elbow, holding her back as Shade popped through the door, one last straggler wrangled into the dimly lit party.

“Let’s just give the kids a half hour to get drunk, cause a distraction, and slip out the doors,” Kilorn suggested. Mare sat down on a lunch table pushed against the side wall and folded her arms.

Kilorn sat next to her. She glanced at Cal and Ptolemus, passing a silver bottle between them. It slid into his left front jacket pocket, the outline obscured by the quality of the fabric.

“He must be hot.”

“Who?”

“Big a burly, your favorite boy-toy, judging by the nicknames,” Mare smirked, turning the teasing back on him.

“Whatever. What kind of distraction are you thinking?”

“I wonder if we can get a repeat of the fight today?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing Ptolemus knocked around a bit more. But I thought you liked Cal.”

“He held his own. I can respect that, but hey, he’s a rich kid. Who better to cause a distraction?”

Kilorn pulled Mare in, pushing her arms around his neck.

“What are we doing?” She asked.

“Dancing. It’s a dance, we better fit in,” Kilorn smirked.

“Well, let’s dance in that general direction, eh?” Mare started to direct them towards the side of the mess hall where Cal and his friends were standing.

“Back pocket,” Kilorn murmured, using the excuse to lean his mouth next to her ear.

“Thanks. One more flask, let everyone get fucked up, and then we’re out of here.”

“Promise?” Kilorn sighed as she broke off and slid between wool coats towards her mark.

Ptolemus was animated, discussing boring things like stock futures for raw commodities. Cal looked like he might glaze over from boredom and quickly latched onto a football metaphor to bring the conversation back to his specialty: sports.

“You ready for training camp?” Cal asked.

“You saw me run today, I totally would have won,” Ptolemus bragged.

“If you’d focused on running, you probably could have.”

“What fun is running if you can’t tear up the competition.”

“Usually, that’s a figure of speech,” Cal replied.

“Speaking of fun… that smart mouth chick and the red-head look a little too relaxed.”

Mare was horrified watching Ptolemus point at her sister and Cameron. Cal turned to look, asking, “And what do you propose?"

She needed to get them all out of the mess hall. She made her move, sliding around while he was distracted and lifting the bottle out of his back pocket. It should have been easy, but her anger must have distracted her. His hand closed around her wrist.

“Whoa, whoa!” He chided, pulling her around in front of him. “Thief.”

“Obviously.” She pulled back against his grip, but he didn’t let go.

“Not a very good one.”

“Depends on the day. Let me go.”

“And if I don’t.”

“I’ll kick you in the shins.” She glared.

The DJ faded the music to silence and Davidson, the Camp Director took to the microphone.

“It’s time for the final event of field day. I want every boy and every girl to pair up for one last competition, a dance off!”

“Well?” Cal held up his left hand, which incidentally had Mare’s wrist firmly gripped. “Convenient.”

Mare glared.

“You gotta dance with someone, or Davidson’s gonna make you,” Cal declared.

Davidson was grabbing girls from one side, boys from the other, pushing them out in pairs of all sorts and triads if necessary. He positioned bodies on the dance floor rearranging the standing groups from the peripherals to the center. He approached and she squirmed on the inside.

“A dance? With her? She’s sewer trash,” Ptolemus complained.

“You have to be kidding,” Mare pulled back again.

“If you prefer, Ptolemus? Or, we can make a sandwich, you in the middle. Take your pick.” Cal waved at his friend.

“Gross.” Mare curled her nose looking at Ptolemus.

“Likewise,” he snarled.

Cal started walking her backwards, using Davidson’s swift approach as an excuse to touch her shoulder and then her hip. Mare’s body moved where it was directed. His arms circled her and she felt the pressure on her lower back. She stepped, stepped, and then crushed his toe.

“Sorry,” she blurted it before she could think. She wasn’t remotely sorry.

“It’s okay. Just follow my lead.” He pulled her a little closer, so that the crook of his arm was almost on her side.

She stepped on his foot on purpose, “Oops.”

“Come on now, I could have turned you in as a thief.”

“It’s a flask.”

“No rules against flasks.”

“It’s alcohol.”

“Presumptuous,” Cal smirked and raised an eyebrow.

She paused and sniffed, but didn’t detect any booze on his breath. Instead, she detected lemons.

“You’re not drinking?” His shoulders shrugged under her arm. “But why? All your other buddies are getting sauced.”

“I like to be present when I’m out of my element. I don’t get to spend a lot of time away from, well, schedules and such.”

“Oh right, busy getting engaged and _society_ and stuff.”

“Look, my dad wants me to be Governor someday, maybe President. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t know the citizenry?”

“Slumming it for perspective, that’s almost wise.”

“Almost.”

“So, who’s the princess you’re gonna marry?”

“Oh, no one.”

“Come on, I read the gossip sheets as much as anyone, which snooty-puff face has caught your eye.”

“Well, if you have to know, none of them. There’s not a single snooty-puff face in my line of sight. But, I don’t have the luxury of choosing. So…”

“Wait, you don’t have a choice?”

“Nope. It’s all in negotiations. My parents and her parents will have it all sorted out by the time we get back. Terms, pre-nup, expectations, down to the color of the flowers at the reception.”

“She’s here? Your bride-to-be is here?”

He paused and took a breath and pursed his lips, but his eyes gave him away. They flicked to the silver-haired she-beast who was pulling out the scant contents of Elane’s small bag in search of her silver flask.

“Evangeline?”

“Like I said, not my choice.”

“But she… she’s gay.”

“That has nothing to do with our marriage. Her family owns all the iron this side of the Mississippi, my father wants to build three new spans across major rivers in the next year. Our marriage will ensure we get a good price, the Samos’ get the contract, and investors get their money.”

“You’re selling away your life for one year of construction?”

He shrugged again. “One year now. A dozen projects over the next thirty years. It’s how business is done.”

“What about what you want?”

“What I want?”

“Yeah, you do have independent thoughts, right? Or is there a hive-mind chip inserted with the silver spoon?”

He chuckles, “Oh, I want things. I really, really want things.”

His face was sincere and unyielding, like the longer he looked the more she’d get his intention. She couldn’t hold his eyes. They’d just met. He would disappear to Manhattan, she’d be back in the Stilts. He’d be married inside of two years while she waited tables through college. But what if…

“Okay, boys and girls! I’m sure you’re all eagerly waiting for the results of today’s field-day. And of course, you all had to wait for the points tallies to see how you accomplished your match up. Behind me, your councilors have the results, so make your way forward and claim your prizes!” Davidson cheered over the loud speaker.

Mare stepped back, but Cal didn’t drop his touch.

“Don’t you want to know if you’ve won?” Mare started to shift, but he held her firm.

“I already have.”

“We only just met. We’ve barely spoken before today.”

“That’s how all things start.”

“You and I are from completely different worlds.”

“We’re from different streets, not different worlds.”

“Cal, you’re about to be engaged.”

“You asked what I wanted…”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

Somewhere in the calamity of people edging their way to stare at lists, the first inexperienced kid hurls on the dance floor. Cal swivels and dodges and pulls away. A second tipsy teen unloads from the smell, and then a third. And then Mare is out the side door with Kilorn, not looking back.

 


End file.
